THE JOY OF JULY

There’s something poignant and special about July. For northern folks in the United States, it means our summer is one-third over—if we count our summer as June, July, and August.

July brings us a heap of good things to experience like beautiful sunsets and the glorious sweet scent of milkweeds blooming along the roadsides shouldering their way among daisies and Queen Anne’s lace. And of course, there’s glorious warm sunshine to enjoy.                                   

My favorite spot during the summer is on our swing on our covered patio, hung near the far edge of the terrace where you can view the stars at night or enjoy a fire blazing in a fireplace several feet beyond. When peace and quiet call the soul, you can sit there any time of the day and just absorb the soothing sounds of country life. The wind whispering in the trees. Birds prattling to each other. The lonesome whistle of a distant train.    

Muggy nights encourage us to linger outside and watch the lightning bugs dance in the grass or watch heat lightning flash across the inky sky. If we’re lucky, we might catch the plaintive call of an owl or night hawk hiding in a nearby tree.

I’m always in awe of the earth beneath us when July rolls around. A garden is one kind of a miracle. We carefully set our plants—flowers, vegetables, and herbs—in the tilled ground or in the buckets in our bucket garden for them to magically flourish using the gifts of soil, sunshine, and showers. Already, parsley, thyme, rosemary, chives, and oregano are ready for use in our summertime sauces, marinates, and favorite dishes.

July is also considered the ideal month for fireworks, picnics, weddings, and celebrations. But it’s also a special time to find joy in the little things and to appreciate the season with its bounty and beauty…even when we know it will end much too soon.

                                         Find them on my AMAZON AUTHOR Page

                JUNE ~ The Pianist        ADELENE ~ The Violinist       LUCY ~ The Clarinetist

 

HERE COMES SUMMER..with its sights, scents, and sounds!

In June, I patiently search for the first signs of summer.

Listen closely, and you can hear the birdsong at sunrise. It’s the doves at our house who start the calliope of song if we leave our bedroom windows open. The nosy robins are back, nesting under our deck and in the rhododendron. Their first fledglings have already been booted out of the nest and intermittently (and annoyingly) squawk, calling for a parent. The brazen sparrows have also returned and have kicked the bluebirds out of their nesting box. Only one lone hummingbird visits our feeder.

Rain in June is a silver spoon as the old adage goes. It’s the month when vegetation emerges and gardens in the North are planted which will yield bountiful crops throughout the next four months and into fall. This year, my bucket garden has been watered quite often by the gray clouds hovering in the sky. I decided to change it up a bit. I’m growing some herbs: lemon thyme, rosemary, oregano, and parsley. Every year I grow a plant of basil on the patio.

The flower of June is the rose which is my favorite because of its soft, layered petals and delicate scent.

I was lucky to be born on a scorching, 90+ degree, June day—the last one of the month—right in the middle of haying season, as my Dad used to point out with a slight grumble in his voice.

When June arrives, farmers push hard during the sweltering sunny days to get a hay field cut, dried, and baled. The sweet and intoxicating scent of newly mowed grass fills the air and forces everyone near to pause and enjoy it, even if the work of cutting, baling, and storing it is hot, intense, and tiresome.

Do you have favorite sights, scents, and sounds of summer?

As poet James Russell Lowell so aptly writes about the month:

And what is so rare as a day in June?

Then, if ever, come perfect days;
Then Heaven tries the earth if it be in tune,

And over it softly her warm ear lays: 

Whether we look, or whether we listen,

We hear life murmur, or see it glisten…

                                    ~ James Russell Lowell – 1819-1891

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